


Fall Through The Ropes

by decadent_mousse



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4307724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt gets shot at and falls out a window.  You know, the usual.  Foggy's a little less used to his boyfriend's nightly routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Through The Ropes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Daredevil fic! I'd like to thank everyone who encouraged me to write this, especially [bravinto](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto) and [patster223](http://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223).

Matt wasn’t having a great night.  There were bad nights and then there were _bad_ nights, and this was shaping up to be one of the latter.  It had started out simple.  Lately, he’d been hearing about a new drug trafficking ring rising up to grab at the vacuum left in the wake of the bigger fish in town getting put out of business.  They were still small, from what he’d learned – he’d figured he could take them down quick and easy before they had time to become a bigger, more serious problem.

He’d underestimated how vicious a few determined drug dealers could be when they were backed into a corner.  He’d also underestimated how heavily armed they’d be.

In the end, he’d ended up running.  As much as it’d stung to admit he’d bitten off more than he could chew, it was either that or die, and he wasn’t completely convinced that he’d gotten away fast enough to avoid the latter.

The trip back home felt like it took twice as long as usual.

He staggered against the door leading down into his apartment and let it hold him upright for a few minutes, blood pounding in his ears and dripping at his feet.  He felt dizzy – off-balance – only sort of dimly aware of anything beyond the pain and the door he was slowly sliding down.  

He grabbed the doorknob reflexively – half to open the door, half to catch himself from falling.  He pushed the door open, took a step, and–

Everything just sort of _twisted_ , there weren’t any stairs under his feet, there was nothing under his feet.  There was just nothing, at all.

~

He woke up on his back and in a lot of pain.  This was becoming a habit.  He wasn’t sure if that meant he was doing a good job or a bad job.  

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

Foggy’s voice, from the other side of the apartment.  He was in the kitchen.  The smell of eggs and bacon wafted in the air and clung to the plate the other man was rinsing off in the sink.

“I would’ve woken you up for breakfast, but Claire said it’d be better to let you sleep.”

His senses felt oddly muted and fuzzy around the edges.  It was more than just the usual grogginess of sleep, and it made everything feel a little off kilter and lopsided.  He felt vaguely nauseous, and the food smell wasn’t helping.

“Just so you know, as far as middle-of-the-night wake up calls go, finding you at the bottom of the stairs wasn’t the best.  How are you feeling?”

“Like I was hit by a truck.”

Foggy’s pulse elevated slightly.  “Normally I’d think you were kidding, but Claire said it looked like you had… impact fractures?  Something like that.”  There was a long pause, punctuated only by Foggy’s breathing.  “Matt, please tell me you didn’t get hit by a truck.”

“I didn’t get hit by a truck.”

A sigh of relief.  “Thank God.”

“I jumped out a two-story window.”

“...Okay, I can’t take this.  I’m going to go take a shower and get ready for work.”

~

Matt didn’t remember falling back asleep – or, more accurately, passing out – but he must have, because the sound of Foggy pulling open one of the drawers of the dresser woke him up.  He heard the familiar rustle of fabric as Foggy put on his tie.

He sat up, biting back a groan, and started to ease out of bed as painlessly as possible.  Which was easier said than done.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!  What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to get ready for work, too.”

“Murdock, if you don’t stay down, I’m gonna tie you to that bed.”

Matt grinned.  “Is that a promise?”

Foggy’s pulse sped up a bit, and Matt laughed.  Then he winced.  Laughing hurt – pretty much anything other than lying very still hurt, if he was being honest.  It hurt, but it was worth it.

“Aha!” Foggy said.  “See, you deserved that.” He strode across the room, though, and put a hand on Matt’s shoulder.  “Seriously, though.  Stay in bed.”

He sighed.  “Foggy, I have things to do.   _We_ have things to do.  We have a meeting with a client–”

“–and me and Karen can take care of it.  You’re not going anywhere, pal.”

“But–”

“No buts!  Matt, you almost _died_!”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“You got shot!  Twice!  And fell out a _window_!  You have several broken ribs, you dislocated an arm, and the only reason you didn’t crack your head open is because you’re so thick-skulled and _stubborn_.”

“Technically, I didn’t fall, I jumped.”

“Even better!”

Matt’s smile faded.  Foggy’s heart rate was still high, but it wasn’t for the same reasons as before.  He was upset.  He could hear it in his voice, feel it trembling in the air.  Not angry – worried.  Scared.

“I thought that new outfit was supposed to be bulletproof.”

He shrugged.  “They were using special ammunition.”

“Great.  That’s great.  The bad guys bought special bullets just for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Foggy sighed.  “Don’t be sorry, just–”   _Be careful, be safe,_ lingered there unspoken – because they both knew Matt couldn’t promise to be either of those things.  “Just stay in bed.  At least for today, promise me.”

“What if I get hungry?”

“I’ll be back for lunch.  I’ll bring you something, you can eat in bed.”

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

Foggy paused.  “Okay, you can get up to go to the bathroom, but that’s _it_.  If I find out you snuck out in the middle of a pee break to go fight crime, you and I are gonna have words, mister.”

~

Matt waited until Foggy left the building before dragging himself out of bed.  He appreciated the thought, but he couldn’t lie around in bed all day.  As long as he was careful about moving, he’d be fine.  He’d dealt with way worse injuries than this.  

Getting out of bed, though, was easier said than done.  Moving hurt – a lot.  He made it about as far as the living room before half-sitting, half-collapsing onto the couch.  

Okay, so maybe – _maybe_ – Foggy had a point.

~

Around noon Claire showed up on his doorstep.  He got up to answer the door and didn’t have to be able to see her to know she’d crossed her arms over her chest.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

“It’s my lunch break.  I thought I’d come see how those bullet wounds were coming along.”

He moved aside to let her in.  “If you expected me to be in bed, how were you going to get in?”

“I didn’t _expect_ you to be in bed, I know better than that.  And Foggy gave me a key.”

Matt briefly wondered if he needed to give Foggy a talk about giving people copies of the key he’d given _him_ without asking first, but if anyone else deserved one – or could be trusted with one – it was probably Claire.  It had probably been the right call.

“How are you holding up?  Any lightheadedness?”

“No,” he lied.  

“Uh huh.  You know, it’s a lot easier to take care of a patient when they’re not lying to me.”

“Um.”  He put on his best innocent, unassuming face.

“That’s it, we’re going to the bedroom.”

From anyone else, that might have sounded like a come-on not a very serious threat.

~

Fifteen minutes later, he was still confined to the bedroom, Claire prodding at his ribs and gently peeking under the gauze covering his shoulder.

“You got lucky.  This one came awfully close to your subclavian artery.  You would’ve bled out before you even got home.”

“You didn’t tell Foggy that, did you?”

“No,” she replied, “but he could tell it was bad, Matt.  I think he was half-convinced you were gonna die on us.  You were in pretty rough shape and you lost a hell of a lot of blood.  You really need to take it easy for awhile.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“You keep hearing it, because it’s _true_.  If you go running around in the state you’re in, you’re going to end up passing out somewhere less friendly.”

Claire knew what she was talking about, and she had a point.  He wouldn’t admit it, but he definitely wasn’t at his best.  Just the walk to the living room earlier had left him shaking, hurting, and dizzy.  He was pretty sure he’d blacked out for a few minutes and just laid there for awhile.

He wasn’t going to bring that up, though.

“He worries about you, you know,” Claire said as she readied the fresh bandages.  

“I know.”

“You should have seen the look on his face when I got here.”

Matt sighed.  “What do you want me to do, Claire?”

“I’m not saying you should stop doing what you do,” she replied, pressing the bandage against his shoulder a little more forcefully than he thought was probably necessary.  “I’m just saying…  Try to be a little more careful.  If not for your sake, then his.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“You damn well better.  I don’t want to end up having to explain to him one these days that I wasn’t able to fix you.”

He was pretty sure whatever underlying problem he had wasn’t something Claire could fix.  He didn’t say that out loud.  

“You’re getting that look on your face.”

“What look.”

“That moody, stubborn, ‘not listening’ look.”

“I’m listening to you, Claire.”

She sighed.  She was frustrated, and he couldn’t blame her.  He couldn’t blame Foggy, either.  They both were just trying to look out for him.  

“So, do we know if these guys just happen to carry around armor-piercing ammunition on a regular basis, or…”

“Or did they get it specifically to take me out?  I don’t know.”

“Well, you might want to find out, Matt.  If these guys are actively researching ways to get around your new armor, that means they _really_ want you dead.”

“I did kind of get that impression when they started shooting at me.”

She slapped him on the shoulder.  The good one, thankfully.

~

By half-past one, Foggy still hadn’t shown up for the lunch he’d promised – though Matt was more than capable of feeding himself, so he didn’t mind.  He was halfway through making a sandwich when Karen called.  

“Karen, hey.”

“Matt, hi!  Foggy got held up with a client and wanted me to let you know he’s not gonna be able to make it to lunch, so ‘order a pizza or something.’”

“I’ll do that,” he said, getting the sliced ham out of the fridge and wondering how he was supposed to answer the door for pizza if he wasn’t allowed to get out of bed.  

“How are you feeling?  He said you were sick.”

“Uh– I am.”  

He wasn’t sure how to play this one.  If he said it wasn’t that bad, she would wonder why he hadn’t come into work, and if he made it sound too bad, she’d get suspicious.  It was getting harder and harder to lie to Karen.  She knew something was going on.  She didn’t know what yet – at least, he didn’t think she did – but she knew there was something, and she wasn’t the type to let things go.

“Is it bad?”

“It was this morning,” he replied slowly.  “I’m feeling a bit better now.  Think I might just be overtired.”

“You need to take better care of yourself, Matt,” Karen said, and whether she believed him or not, there was genuine concern in her voice.

“So people keep telling me.”

“Maybe you should listen.”

~

He’d spent most of the earlier part of the day in a half-conscious haze, but by the end of the day he was starting to feel awake, and awake meant he was starting to _really_ feel the pain.  He rummaged around in his medicine cabinet and wondered if he had anything built for bullet wounds and broken ribs.  Didn’t seem likely.  And even if he did, anything that strong probably would’ve compromised his senses, and they were already still a bit off his jaunt out the window last night.

He wondered if he had a concussion.  That seemed like something Claire would have mentioned, if he did.  

When Foggy got home, Matt didn’t even have to pretend to be half-conscious in bed, because he _had_  been half-conscious in bed – for the past hour and a half.

“Matt?  You awake?”  There was a slight hesitation before the word “awake” that made Matt think he’d been about to ask “are you home?” instead.

“Yes.”

Foggy put down his briefcase and started tugging off his tie when he hit the bedroom.  “How’re you feeling?”

“Not bad.”

“Really?”

“No, I feel terrible.”

Matt felt the mattress dip under Foggy’s weight, felt the warmth radiating from his body – along with a fair amount of lingering concern.  “You know, you wouldn’t have this problem if you didn’t keep putting yourself in situations where people are actively trying to kill you.”

He rolled over carefully.  Not carefully enough, though, because he could feel his stitches pull.  

“Hey, careful!”

He took a few shallow breaths to steady himself as he eased back against the mattress.  “I’m okay.”

An arm wrapped around his shoulders.  “Yeah, you look real okay.”  Foggy ran his fingers through Matt’s hair and kissed his forehead.  “You didn’t stay in bed all day, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t think so,” he sighed.  “Please tell me you didn’t leave the apartment and go running across rooftops or anything like that, because I really _will_ tie you up, Matt, and not in a sexy way.  In a very serious ‘this is serious, look at your life choices’ way.”

His tone was light, but Matt could hear the tight note of tension and concern in it.  

“I didn’t.”

“Uh huh.”  

Foggy shifted against him, scooting down lower on the mattress, laying his head on Matt’s chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to tell if you’re lying.  Unlike _some_ people, I don’t have super-hearing.”

Matt laughed softly and repeated.  “I didn’t.  I didn’t go out, to fight crime or to do anything else.  I promise, Foggy.”  

“Hmm.”

“Satisfied?”

“Well, it doesn’t _sound_ like you’re lying, but for all I know tricking lie detectors can be part of your ninja training.”

“I’m not a–”  Matt laughed.  “It isn’t.”

“Ah, but even if it was, you could lie about it and I’d never be able to tell.  But… I trust you.  More or less.”

“More or less?”

“Hey, you lied to me about having superpowers for _years_ , but… definitely more than less.  I trust you to be honest with me – I just don’t trust you to not go get yourself killed five minutes after almost getting yourself killed.”

“I–”

“Aha!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were going to argue against it, you didn’t even _start_ lying yet and I could tell.  This whole heartbeat lie detector thing really works!”

Matt rolled his eyes in Foggy’s general direction.  “I guess this debunks the theory that I’m ninja-trained in lying.”

“Maybe,” Foggy relented, relaxing against him, head still on his chest.

Matt wrapped an arm around Foggy’s shoulder.  The upper body movement didn’t make his ribs scream for what had to be the first time all day, so he considered it a victory.  He also considered it a sign that it’d be okay to put on the costume again in a day or two.  He wisely chose not to mention that to Foggy.  He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Did you have pizza for lunch, at least?”

“Ham sandwich.”

“And the betrayals just keep on coming.”


End file.
